


lucky for you

by hikaie



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Pegging, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spreader Bars, Tenderness, implied aftercare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 09:04:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11917623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaie/pseuds/hikaie
Summary: "Genji." She reminds him, admonishing.He clears his throat. "I like it."





	lucky for you

**Author's Note:**

> h a h a h a.... i didn't edit this and it's really toeing some weird line between tenderly vanilla and dom/sub
> 
> (with mentions of (good) subspace and hinted aftercare. which is always good.)

She's the only one he trusts to do this.

Her hand is on his thigh- rough, calloused in the palm from joysticks and piloting controls. Thousands of neurocybernetics fire off as she drags her fingers along the soft pseudo-skin. She's gentle- and part of his brain gets a little crossed sometimes, thinks about so many of the other machines she handles and he gets into that spiraling, dark place where he doesn't remember if he's machine or man, or worth the distinction at all. But she's gentle. Even when his wires are crossed, when she's spreading his thighs he feels like it's right, like she's meant to do it and he's meant to let her. He doesn't mind giving up the control- relishes it, even. And when she's done spreading him, and her hands are gone, and he's breathing, there's a perfect stillness. It lasts only in the moments between her hands leaving him and returning, this time to secure the spreader around his thighs.

He makes a noise into the sheets.

"Yeah?" She strokes his thighs again, receptors firing, and his breath shakes. "Not too tight?"

"No." His voice is a whisper.

His modesty plate has long since been discarded, and his cock is heavy between his thighs, and on his knees as he is there's little but the cool kiss of the air to give him any frction. Genji is aching by the time she presses her finger against his perineum, his cock twitching, balls tightening up. A noise gets caught in his throat.

"Do you like that?" Hana asks. She's leaning over him, now; her hand is still between his legs, and her small breasts are pressed up against the middle of his back. Her finger presses against him again, just a tease, just shy of where he wants it, where she wants it. He pushes himself up with his palm and glances down to see a drop of pre ooze from the tip of his dick.

"Genji." She reminds him, admonishing.

He clears his throat. "I like it."

"Good." She pulls back and he presses his face into the cool pillow. The dark lets him tune in- the sounds of her shifting in the sheets, of his heartbeat pounding in his ears, of the lube cap being flicked open and the wet sound of it being rubbed onto her fingers. He jerks when she presses her fingers to his entrance. "Easy." She smooths her other hand down his back, and he can hear the smile in her voice. "Be a good boy, hmm?"

The words drain the tension from his muscles. He sags against the blankets and exhales heavily as she slides the first finger in.

She's the only one he trusts to do this.

Hana loves to play with him. It's a game, he knows this; he knows her mind, how she approaches problems, how she likes to throw herself into a situation headfirst. She loves control and agency. It's heady, to give himself up to someone so competent, someone he knows can play his body like a tightly wound fiddle and always take him to the best end. He doesn't have to know, or be involved, or care; he can relinquish everything to her and be safe in it. Genji has never had that before- in all his exploits, he was the one in control. While he certainly has an appreciation for that angle as well, to know he can have the best of both worlds with Hana makes it all the sweeter.

Working him open isn't just a means to an end; it's a level in the game. She takes her time, one finger at a time, and pauses to add lube and suspense. Her face is pressed up against his back, her free arm wrapped around him, hand teasing his pelvis. He squirms as she strokes him open with three fingers. His face feels impossibly hot. He feels the prickle of sweat on his scalp and under his flesh arm, and in the crevices of his flesh hand. When he whimpers, her left hand curls around the base of his cock and squeezes.

"Fuck." He hisses into the pillows. She laughs against his back.

There her makeshift cockring stays, a firm grip on him as she speeds up her fingers. Her mind is a weapon, her fingers ammunition against all of his most sensitive spots. He's squirming, thighs quivering with tension, unable to close. He moans disconsolately.

"Please." He utters, for the first time. It won't be the last, tonight.

Her fingers are stroking, curling in a way that has his toes curling in response, has him hiccuping on a noise. She's so tender with him, in this game they play; he's as precious as fragile gemstone. He doesn't know how or why it gets to him, or still works for him; that she can be so impossibly sweet yet dominate him into trembling submission.

"Please what?" She has to move around, let go of his cock to nuzzle the back of his neck and speak closer to his ear. "I think I must have misheard you."

"Hana." His voice cracks as he rushes to correct himself, wanting more but not the end. "Please, I need you."

She's slowing her fingers now, dragging them along his walls. He groans and twists his hands in the blankets. The movement stops completely, and he feels the final slick slide of her fingers out of him. This close now, he can hear the elevation of her breathing, thinks he can almost hear the rapid pulse of her heart. Her left hand settles in the crease of his thigh, in the sensitive v of his hip. Her right, he knows, is-

"Nnh." He presses his forehead into the pillow and drops his chin, breathing shallowly as she guides the tip of the strap-on inside him.

"That's my good boy." When her right hand finds the same position on his hip he bites his lip, only a second to prepare before she's sliding home, pushing a noise out of him. He inhales when she slides out, the only chance he'll get to take breaths as she sets a pace and fucks him. Hana expects him to be vocal and he's never one to disappoint.

He wants to see her. He fantasizes about it, brain fuzzy- the last time she'd had him on his back, mandhandled into a splay of legs and arms and hair in her bed. He'd been able to watch as the cock disappeared inside him, been able to see the flex and strain of her abdominal muscles. She's strong, has to be to tug muscle and metal alike back against her hips as she fucks him. He moans at the memory, comes back to himself and moans again at a perfect thrust that has pleasure rocketing up his spine.

Hana slides her hand through his hair, mussing it further. She tugs lightly and angles his head until he can just see her in his periphery, neck straining. She's sweaty and flushed and her breasts jiggle enticingly as she thrusts once again. He hums low in his throat.

"Gen?"

He makes a noise low in his throat in way of response. He's so weak, entire body like jelly as she chases both of his pleasure. He can feel how wet the tip of his cock is, knows he must be making a mess of the sheets.

She doesn't respond just yet, not with words. Her right hand slides down, caressing his pelvis. He manages a sobbing noise as she wraps it around his dick. With their skin touching he can feel how wet he is, pre slicking the way as she strokes him slow and careful. He moans in warning, a throaty, jerking sound. His eyes feel hot.

She clucks her tongue. "Don't hold back."

Her thumb sweeps over the slit, pulls the skin back. It's wet and rough and perfect and he outright sobs, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes. She hasn't said- has only hinted- but she's working him so good-

"Hana!" He cries, warning and plea alike. Her pelvis presses to his ass and he whimpers, sighs; the muscles in his thighs are so taut they feel likely to snap.

"Come."

He does, like a freight train, the sensation washing over him so intensely he nearly whites out from it. His cock jerks in her grip, his balls draw up and he spurts against the bed. Genji feels himself clench around the strap on, feels the rhythmic pulse of his muscles as he seizes and cries silently. Hana milks him for all he's worth, until he's trembling, wet and spending his last drop into her eager palm.

"Good boy." She murmurs as she strokes his thighs, pulling out with a slick noise. He moans weakly and goes pliant under her hands. She undoes the cuffs of the spreader and eases him over onto his back. He feels momentarily disoriented, and his legs ache. He watches through slitted eyes as she undoes the clasps and pulls of the strap-on harness and sets it aside. Her hands come to his thighs, massaging gently. Seeing her now- pupils blown and hungry, chest flushed, nipples pebbled- his softening cock gives a valiant jerk. She leans in and kisses it at the base, nose pressing against him too. A guttural noise is dragged from him.

Her eyes are intense as she mouths at him, a perfect tease and confident in her efforts. When he's hard again she climbs up, slinging her leg over his and sinking down slow and careful.

"Yessss." She breathes, airy, resplendent. She rocks on him, finds his hands and squeezes them, leans in and open-mouth kisses him. She tastes like cum. Now she finds her own pleasure, breaking herself apart on his cock as easy as she had broken him on hers.

"My good boy." She says against his mouth, their lips parted, sharing the same breaths. He looks into her eyes as she comes and places his hand at the small of her back, holding her down and feeling her clench around him. It draws a jerk and a pulse of pre out of him but he can't bring himself to come again, aroused but spent. She nestles into the curve of his neck and moans contentedly in the aftermath.

"My good boy." She repeats, and strokes up and down the plane of his chest. They'll lie like this for a while, her legs thrown over his, barely separated; her still wet and warm against his hip; sharing kisses and air. Eventually they'll get up- she'll clean him up and dote on him and he'll come back to himself. For now though, he's wont to lie in her arms, and her in his; and belong to her.


End file.
